


What We Almost Were

by ashes_and_ashes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Grindeldore, M/M, Timeline, young grindeldore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 08:03:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes_and_ashes/pseuds/ashes_and_ashes
Summary: When the owl comes, he almost misses it.He leaps from the bed, bolting to the window, the iron bars and the long-shattered glass. He recognizes the owl, tawny, with brown feathers, and for a moment, his heart leaps. Just for a moment, he remembers long fingers and red hair and two boys in summer. The memory lingers, soft as spider silk, before it vanishes.He ignores it, thrusting his hand through the bars. The glass scrapes at his hand, and he brushes the blood off as he grabs the small package attached to the owl.He brings it inside, the paper slightly damp, and he stares at the familiar script in front of him. To: Gellert. APWBD.With shaking, bleeding hands, he peels back the paper, tips the contents onto his lap. There’s a small slip of paper, rolled up, and next to it, a small leather vial.He places the paper aside, brings the vial close up to his face, and his heart clenches as he reads the inscription. Memories - Us.The person that used to be Gellert Grindelwald smiles, sadly, for a heartbeat, before opening the cap and blowing softly. The fluid inside is silvery, neither gas nor liquid, and it billows around the room as Grindelwald lets the memories overtake him.





	1. What We Were Before

The cell was the same as always.

So many years, locked away, the cold stone floors and the iron bars. The narrow bed, the moth-eaten blankets.

Sometimes, when he bit his lip, he tasted salt.

It was ironic, so bitterly and terribly ironic, that he would be locked in the same prison that he built. He made this cell unbreakable, cast every spell that lay on the stones, and now he was trapped.

He runs his fingers over the bricks. Once, the stones were rough. Once, they tore at his flesh when he brushed them, the blood smearing on the walls. He had liked it, long ago, had pressed his fingers harder into the wall, let the rock cut into his skin. It was better, to bleed instead of feeling nothing.

The stone was smooth now, years and years smoothing it down into softness, and they no longer tore at his fingers.

He drops his hand, staring at the cell. The days passed so slowly now, minutes stretching like days. A mockery of what they were long ago, of what he was long ago. His future, once so promising and now reduced to slowly going mad inside an old cell.

Cell. The word echoed inside of his head for a moment, before he snarls. Words seemed to echo lately, unspoken words that cut him up inside.

There’s nothing to do, nothing to say, so he sits on the bed and stares off into nothingness.

When the owl comes, he almost misses it.

He leaps from the bed, bolting to the window, the iron bars and the long-shattered glass. He recognizes the owl, tawny, with brown feathers, and for a moment, his heart leaps. Just for a moment, he remembers long fingers and red hair and two boys in summer. The memory lingers, soft as spider silk, before it vanishes.

He ignores it, thrusting his hand through the bars. The glass scrapes at his hand, and he brushes the blood off as he grabs the small package attached to the owl.

He brings it inside, the paper slightly damp, and he stares at the familiar script in front of him. To: Gellert. APWBD.

With shaking, bleeding hands, he peels back the paper, tips the contents onto his lap. There’s a small slip of paper, rolled up, and next to it, a small leather vial.

He places the paper aside, brings the vial close up to his face, and his heart clenches as he reads the inscription. Memories - Us.

The person that used to be Gellert Grindelwald smiles, sadly, for a heartbeat, before opening the cap and blowing softly. The fluid inside is silvery, neither gas nor liquid, and it billows around the room as Grindelwald lets the memories overtake him.

~

The first memory is simple, a hot summers day. He’s standing there, watching, a marketplace in a small village. People are talking, buying fruits and vegetables and whatnot, and he noticed with a jolt that beside him is Albus.

He stares at him, at the strength and the cleverness that dripped from him. He remembers Albus, the boy he once was, and because this is a memory, he allows himself to stare. Albus is hunched, grief pulling his shoulder down, cutting circles under his cheeks. But he still stands tall, the light making his hair glow, and his eyes -

His eyes looked like the sky.

Albus frowns, sighing as he picks his way through the produce, turning over the apples and the carrots and the cheese. It was a different Albus then who he used to know. This Albus was soft, wool and blurred lines.

He’s not quite sure what made Albus look over, but he does, and suddenly he sees himself through Albus’ eyes.

He can barely recognize himself, the years in Numengard destroying his mind. But there he is, tall and slender, his eyes gleaming and his hair golden. He notices how Albus’ breath seemed to catch, how Albus set down the apple he was holding, and Grindelwald exhales. There was something beautiful about how Albus saw him, something that Grindelwald never saw through his own eyes. No, these memories were all Albus’.

But he still remembers what they said, long ago. He sees himself, striding over to Albus, a light brush of his hands against Albus’ hips as he snatches his wand. He hears Albus’ voice as he says, “That’s not yours. Give that back.”

Gellert laughs, careless and carefree, tossing the wand and catching it. He remembers his accent, the way his vowels rolled into each other as Gellert says, “Well, that’s a nice wand you have.” He glances up, his mismatched eyes hidden below his lashes. “Care to show me your other wand?”

Albus frowns, his brows creased in puzzlement. “What do you…” Gellert laughs as Albus understands, his cheeks flushing. “What? No! No-, I’m not going to show you my… What is the purpose of that?”

Gellert smiles, tossing him his wand back. “Well, fine. Be like that.”

Albus splutters in embarrassment. With a wink and a bow, Gellert disapparates, leaching Albus flushed and scrambling to collect his wand.

There’s a piece of paper, wrapped around the handle, the ends curling in the wind. The words are stark, black against the parchment. Pretty Please?

Albus swears, shredding the paper into pieces, and turns, gripping the parcel of food in his hand, setting off towards home.

The scene fades, streaks of gold and green and yellow, and suddenly, the memory shifts.

~

He sees the island, first, the feeling of cool air on his face. It was small, a collection of rocks and reeds, some sand and a gnarled, ancient tree that cast a shadow over the dirt. They used to apparate here, during that long summer, where it was far out enough on the water that no muggle could reach them.

They lay there, the two of them, gold hair mixed with auburn, as they talk about everything and nothing at once. Albus was laughing, his head thrown back, eyes gleaming like the sky above them. “Oh, like that’s going to work. What are you going to do, march into their muggle school and tell them that wizards exist?”

Gellert smirks, raising an eyebrow. “No. I wouldn’t just tell them. I’d…persuade them. I’d show them some magic. Using…my…special…wand.”

Albus snorts. “What wand?”

Gellert rolls his eyes. “Oh, like you’ve ever seen my wand, dickhead.” He stands, splashing water onto Albus’ laughing face. “Do you know how many duels I’ve won just by showing off the magic from my wand-tip? I’ve heard it’s been a euphoric experience, getting to gaze upon my manly wand, in all its thick, wandish glory.”

He hears the sand shift beside him as Albus stretches. “Manly wand my ass. I’ll have to take your word for it, seeing as I can’t duel.”

Gellert slumps back down, glaring at Albus. Something inside of him flutters at the sight of Albus, stretched out on the sand, but he ignores it, shoving it deep down inside of him. “What? You can’t duel?”

Albus shrugs, stretching his hands above his head, and Gellert flushes. He tries to disguise the movement by glancing down, pulling at the grass by his feet. Albus carries on, oblivious. “Never felt the need to learn. Like, I can cast the spells, but when I come face-to-face with the person…I freeze.”

Gellert frowns. “Okay, yeah. That’s…no.” He stands again, drawing his wand from his pocket. “You can’t just…not duel! You’re going to get your ass killed!”

Albus yawns. “Seems I’ve survived for long enough without it.”

Gellert rolls his eyes, twirling his wand with a lazy flick of his wrist. A cascade of little balls of light fills the air as he says, “I’ll teach you. I was the best duelist in my school before I…left.” He swallows. “But honestly, you need to learn. How are we going to carry out the greater good if I have to save your sorry, swooning behind every time someone casts something?”

“Fine.” Albus glares in mock anger, the tips of his lips curving up in a small smile. “What first, Teacher Grindelwald?”

Gellert tilts his head. “Master Grindelwald. Because I am the master of using my wand.” He laughs at Albus’ expression, the exasperation written all over his face. “Right. Duelling isn’t about who is the most powerful, who can cast the strongest spell. It’s about who is the most efficient, who can last the longest.” Gellert shrugs. “Say I cast a spell. Incendio.” A ball of flame roared from the top of Gellert’s wand, the shadows casting Albus’ face in flickering relief. “There are a million different ways to block it. You could cast a shield charm. You could transfigure it into something harmless. You could even intercept it with another spell.”

Albus frowns, studying the glowing ball. “Why don’t you just create another sphere of water around it? You could use Aguamenti to create the water, and Levicorpus to lift it…” He trails off, noticing the exasperation on Gellert’s face. “Or not.”

Gellert sighs. “See! This is why you are shit at duelling. The easiest, most energy-efficient way is to just dodge the bloody fireball.”

Albus laughs, the sound echoing over the water. “But that’s not duelling, that’s being an asshole.”

Gellert rolls his eyes. “Fine. Do it your way.”

They practice for the rest of the day, the sun sinking low over the horizon, jets of orange and pink and white illuminating the lake. When they finally stop, covered in dirt and sweat, they are both laughing. Gellert snorts, one hand loosely holding his wand. “You are so fucking horrible at duelling! I can tell what you are going to do before you even do it!”

Albus raises an eyebrow. “How?”

Gellert shrugs. “Written all over your face.” He laughs. “God, you are shit at hiding your emotions.”

Albus smiles, and Gellert notices how it lights up his face. It makes him look younger, innocent, all tousled hair and tanned skin and blue, blue eyes. “Maybe I’m just too caught up with your…wandliness.”

Gellert splashes him again, water rubbing down his face, and Albus yelps, tossing a handful of sand back at him. “Fine! Fine, I’m leaving!” He glances up at the sky, and Gellert notices the worry that settles over his face, the guilt and the tension. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should have been home hours ago.”

Gellert exhales, the joy fading. “Yeah. You probably should.” He pauses. “Say hi to Ariana for me. I’ll try and stop by next time.”

Albus nods. “You should. She loves you. She practically thinks you’re part of the family.” He smiles. “You should get her some chocolate. She’ll love that.”

“Noted.”

With a crack, Albus turns, disappearing into the darkening night as Gellert stands there on the island.

~

The next memory is similar - a golden day, that same island, the waves lapping on the shore. Gellert is pacing, up and down, wearing a trough into the sand as Albus pages through a book. “And they see us as the villains, in this screwed up story. Us!”

Albus shrugs, turning the page. From this angle, Gellert can only make out thin, spidery runes, a few illustrations of wands and complicated spells. “Yes, but you have to see, Gel. People don’t understand this. They don’t understand what we want.” He bites his lip, the skin around his teeth going white as he pauses at a page. “They don’t understand that all we want is a better world. It’s not selfishness, it’s selflessness, because we want a better world for everyone, not just wizards.”

Gellert curses, pacing up and down. “That’s all we want though.” He shakes his head. “We don’t want a world where wizards and muggles live apart! There could be a better world, where we all live in unison! A world where muggles and wizards play together on the streets, where schools teach both Potions and Science, a world where we don’t have to hide!” He whirls around, sand filling the spaces in his shoe. “And that’s all that we are doing right now! Hiding!”

Albus’ voice is quiet. “We just want to be equal.”

Gellert nods. “Exactly. We want the chance to be ourselves.”

He glances over, at Albus sitting against the tree. It had started off small, the noticing. Small things, how Albus was slowly growing taller, his shoulders broader and his legs longer. The way his hair paled at the edges, curled around the bottom of his ears. His wrists, the pale bands where the robes covered his skin from the sun. There were so many things to be noticed, and Gellert was too afraid to say anything. Because what if he laughed? What if he ran? What if he didn’t feel the same way?

He’s pacing again, nails digging lines into his palm. It was his talent, the ability to hide his feelings. A wall, of quartz and obsidian and glass, sectioning his feelings from everything else. It took courage, to be able to be dying inside, to be screaming, to be crying in pain and still laugh and laugh and laugh.

Albus is still reading, casually turning the pages. He pauses, a finger marking his place as he glances up. “Gel? You alright?”

Gellert nods, the wall slamming down. Get it together. “Yeah. Fine.”

Those blue eyes penetrate him, burning through his soul, and Gellert almost flinches. Albus seems not to notice though, as he says, “Okay. Well…take a look at this?” He holds open the book, the page turned to a paragraph and an illustration. “It’s called a Wish-Vessel. Basically, two people whisper a wish into an open container and seal it with their blood. If it’s buried under the ground by the next blue moon, the wish is supposed to come true.” He shrugs. “Seems interesting. I wanted to try it.”

Gellert scans the passage, noting the incantations, the requirements, the magic and the preparation. It seems simple enough, and he shrugs as he says, “Okay. Do you have a container?”

Albus frowns. “Yeah. Hmm, forgot about that.” He digs in the pockets of his robes, then his trousers, as Gellert tries to find something, anything to look at other than Albus and his hands and his -

“Found something!” Albus smiles, a small leather vial resting on his palm. “It’s supposed to be for Ariana’s medicine, but I’m sure we can use it!”

Gellert tilts his head. “You sure she will be alright without it? What if she gets an episode?”

Albus waves him off, vanishing the contents with his wand. “She knows how to make it. The potion, I mean. Besides, my brother will make sure she takes it.” He opens the cap, the tub scratching against his fingernails. “Here, I’ll go first.”

Gellert watched as he places the opening against his lips, whispering something into the depths. He passes the vial over, fingers brushing Gellert’s. He smiles, slightly, placing his lips over the vial, whispering his one true wish, before handing it back over to Albus. “Right. How do we get the blood?”

Albus fishes his wand out of his pocket, his other hand grabbing Gellert’s. “Here. Give me your hand.”

Gellert swallows, Albus’ fingers cool on his own. He exhales, biting his lip, as Albus touches the wand-tip to his finger. “Lacero.”

A small, deep slash appears in Gellert’s finger, as Albus lets the blood drip into the vial. “Here. You do me.”

Gellert grips his wand, Albus’ hand in his own. His heart is fluttering in his chest, and to distract himself, he laughs. “Gladly. I’ll do you in an instant. Lacero.” The blood drips into the vial, and Albus grabs it, holding his wand over the enterance and seals it. “Well…that was anti-climatic.” He tosses the vial to Gellert. “Here. You keep it. You’re more responsible anyways.”

Gellert slips the vial into his pocket, bringing his other hand up to his lips. “Sure.” He frowns at his finger. “That’s nice.”

Albus rolls his eyes, muttering Episkey under his breath. “I mean…sympathetic magic. Woolly business if you ask me.”

Gellert laughs. “Never been one for chance, have you Al?”

Albus shrugs, standing in one fluid motion. “Yeah. Well, it’s late. I need to get back home.” He shakes his head, holding out his hand. “Can you…can you come with me? Back?”

The words lie unspoken between the two of them. Back? Back to that dark, dusty house? Back to being 17, having to take care of 2 siblings? Back to the silence, the shadows. Back to being normal?

He’s always been able to read Albus, to see the emotions dance on his face like flipping from one page to the next. He sees the resignation, the hollowness written over everything, and Gellert nods. “I’ll come. Always.”

He grabs Albus’ hand, curling his fingers around Albus’ palm, and they hold tight as they vanish into the surrounding town.


	2. What We Could Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s quiet again, the silence echoing over the water. Idly, Gellert smirks as he twirls his wand, over his knuckles and wrist and between his fingers, trailing sparks at the ends. He weaves them, forms a net of white fire that loops around his thumbs, glowing in the near darkness. Beside him, Albus shifts, the sound of sand grating against sand. He doesn’t look over though, refuses to focus on anything but his wand, spinning over the backs of his hands and the front of his wrists and -

They sit there together, on the rocks by the edge of the shore. Legs stretched out in front of them, robes skimming the surface of the water as high above them, the sky darkens. Sunset, the wind pulling at their hair as they stare up at the stars.

Gellert stretches, his hands digging into the sand above him, as he nudged Albus with his foot. “Oi. You sure it’s going to happen tonight?”

Even in the dark, he sees Albus rolls his eyes. “Yes. I’ve checked the calender. It should happen.”

Gellert taps him again. “Should happen?”

He laughs as Albus kicks him, sand getting into his robes as Albus brushes him off. “I can’t control the bloody stars, Gel. Shut up and be patient.”

Gel gasps, in mock anger. “Patience? Oh, patience is not one of my talents. Intelligent is one. Incredible sex appeal is another. But I sure as hell am not patient.”

He almost laughs at the look that passes over Albus’ face, at the exasperation and amusement that was so easy to read. He could see it in his eyes, the way they gleamed slightly, even in the dark, the way his mouth curled slightly up to the left, as Albus turned his head back towards the stars.

Gellert pokes him again. “Are you sure - “ He breaks off, laughing, as Albus kicks him, the wind blowing sand into their faces. “Fine. I’ll shut up.”

It’s quiet again, the silence echoing over the water. Idly, Gellert smirks as he twirls his wand, over his knuckles and wrist and between his fingers, trailing sparks at the ends. He weaves them, forms a net of white fire that loops around his thumbs, glowing in the near darkness. Beside him, Albus shifts, the sound of sand grating against sand. He doesn’t look over though, refuses to focus on anything but his wand, spinning over the backs of his hands and the front of his wrists and -

Albus’ gasp breaks his thoughts. “Look!”

Gellert glances up, his wand falling to rest by his knee. At first he can’t tell what he is looking at, just a faint streak, shining at the edges. It glitters, softly, and Gellert smiles.

The second one is brighter, a little ball of white and green and blue, hurtling across the sky. Another one follows, then another, and soon the whole sky is full of them. They are beautiful, illuminating the lake, filling the air with stardust and moondust, reflecting in the dark waters below them. Hundreds and hundreds of falling stars, streaking across the night sky, whorls and spirals and dots, and Gellert catches his breath.

He sees a particularly bright one next, carving a groove into the darkness, and he turns his head. “Isn’t it ironic, that something is only beautiful as it dies?”

Albus looks over. They are close now, mere inches apart, so close that all Gellert would need to do is lean forwards, and then their lips would touch. He bites his lip, the pain clearing the fog in his head as he whispers. “Like…that once was a star. A piece of it, at least. And then for whatever reason, it burned, and fell, and it will soon break apart into nothing but dust. But for this short moment, it is beautiful, and then it will die.”

Albus frowns, his breathing soft. “Will it though? That dust…it will create new things. New planets, new galaxies, new moons. Is it truly dead, if it creates something new? Something better?”

They are too close now, and Gellert can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He’s grateful now, for the darkness that hid his face, as he looks back up at the sky. He exhales, slowly, refusing to look over to where Albus lay on the rocks, refusing to do anything but stare up at the sky and the stars.

Slowly, he hears Albus shift, stretching out his legs. He feels Albus’ knee bump against his own, and all Gellert wants to do his to press his leg against Albus’ leg, his lips against Albus’ lips. He can feel his pulse rising, throbbing in his neck, and he bites down hard on his lip again.

Silently, he turns his head, just slightly, to find Albus staring back at him.

He’s frozen, looking into those clear blue eyes, unable to think, to talk, to breathe as they stare at each other. He hears Albus exhale, feels a set of warm fingers close around his wrist, and Gellert feels his heart pounding as Albus leans over and kisses him.

The kiss is gentle, just a brushing of lips, but Gellert makes a small, choked noise and brings Albus closer. He hears Albus sigh against their lips, feels Albus’ hands brushing against his waist and back and Gellert is flying, hovering miles above the earth. He brushes his hands, rubs them over Albus’ shoulders and his neck, burying them into that bright copper hair, winding the strands around his fingers. Albus is warm, steady, and Gellert can feel himself relaxing as he pulls away.

He brushes his lips over the shell of Albus’ ear, and Albus shivers as he whispers, “Now can I see your wand?”

“What the -?” Albus pulls back, exasperation smeared over his face as Gellert laughs. “You…” He rolls his eyes. “Piece of shit!”

Gellert just smiles, as he feels Albus’ hands on his chest and he is falling back into the water. He had plenty of time, to cast a spell and not get wet, but all he does is toss his wand onto the rocks as he gals into the lake.

The water is cold, dark and murky, and Gellert kicks up as he surfaces. The wind numbs his face, whipping the icy strands of his hair as he flips off Albus. “Asshole! Jesus, it’s freezing in here.”

Albus just pokes his tongue out, his lips kiss-swollen as Gellert wraps his icy fingers around Albus’ wrist and pulls him in the water as well. He tumbles in with a splash, robes billowing out around him like a fallen flower, into the icy depths of the lake.

Albus splutters, shivering as he surfaces. “Oh god, it’s so cold.”

Gellert smirks, running his thumb over Albus’ knuckles, pulling him closer as he breathes, “I know what can warm you up.”

Then Albus is kissing him again, kissing him as the stars fall around them, streaks of white light in the water, eternal and everlasting.

~

He sits at the battered kitchen table. A metal tin of colored pencils lie on his left, a stack of old parchment underneath it. He taps his fingers against the table as he watches Ariana draw.

She’s sketching something, though it’s hard to tell from this angle. Every now and then, she would glance up, frowning, before grabbing a new pencil and continuing to draw. He watches her, the streaks of charcoal and graphite and ink smearing across the page, bold and dark and fierce. She glances up, cocking her head, before looking back down. “Why are your eyes different colors?”

He smiles at her, tapping his fingers. Albus had run upstairs to grab something, Aberforth outside gardening, and it was just the two of them downstairs. “I don’t know.” He leans in, winking at her. “Some say it’s because I was so perfect, the Angels needed to give me a flaw, or all the ladies and men would throw themselves at me.”

Arian wrinkles her nose, poking her tongue out. “Would not!”

Gellert laughs. “What, you don’t think I’m good looking?”

Ariana shakes her head. “No. Well, firstly, that would be like thinking my cousin was attractive, which is gross.” She looks up, a small smirk dancing over her lips as she says, “But also, Albus would kill me for trying to steal his boyfriend.”

Gellert rolls his eyes, hiding the small flutter in his chest at the words. “Oh would he now?”

Ariana shrugs, picking through the pencil tin. “You’d be surprised. ‘Oh I love him and his hair and have you seen those eyes and oh, I feel faint -‘“ She breaks off, laughing, as Gellert throws a pencil at her. “It’s fine. I told him I won’t steal his man. Besides, you two are going off soon, right? There won’t be much opportunity once you’re gone.”

Gellert smiles, throwing another pencil at her. “Thanks for your support.”

Ariana beams at him. “If you want, I can show you his diary about you.”

Gellert nods. “Oh yes, please do.”

They are laughing again, laughing and giggling as behind them, they hear the door slam open. Aberforth storms in, a bucket in his hand, mud coating his arms and legs as he glares at Gellert. He only addresses Ariana as he growls, “What is he doing here.”

Ariana frowns, standing up quickly. Her pale hair drifts around her face as she says, “We were just talking, Abe. He wasn’t doing anything.”

Aberforth just slams the bucket hard onto the ground. “I told you, I don’t want him in my house.” He locked eyes with Gellert, the fury barely held back behind them. “Get the hell out. Now.”

Gellert inclines his head, rising in a swift motion. “I’ll be happy to. Thanks for your hospitality.”

He sees the color rise in Aberforth’s cheeks, and Gellert feels a small flush of victory at the sight. He can’t keep the smirk off his face though, as he turns to leave.

Ariana’s angry voice cuts through the air. “Why do you hate him so much, Abe? It’s not like he’s done anything to you!”

He turns then, stopping, as he sees the flush on Aberforth’s face darkening. “Drop it.”

Ariana shakes her head, her fave determined as she snaps back. “No. No, I won’t. Why do you hate him so much? He’s done nothing wrong to you, has been nothing but polite to us, he’s dating Albus for god’s sake -“

Aberforth’s voice is raised now, as he yells at Ariana, “Drop it!”

“-Why can’t you just accept that Albus loves him, that I’m quite fond of him, it’s only you that hates him -“

Aberforth draws his wand now, raising it threatening as he shouts, “JUST DROP IT!”

Gellert’s wand is raised too, pointing directly at Aberforth. His voice is quiet, icy calm, as he spits, “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Aberforth sneers, his wand now pointing at Gellert. “You’re our father now? Coming here, you and Albus, trying to run our family, ruin our life?”

Ariana swallows, her body pressed against the wall, and Gellert can feel his anger rising as he smirks. “Ruin your life? I dare say, Albus and Ariana seem to like me well enough. It’s only you who has a problem with me.”

Aberforth is red, his wand shaking as he grits out, “I know who you are. Ariana is too young to see it, and Albus is blind and arrogant and self absorbed, but I see it, Grindlewald.” He hisses out the name, as if it was some sort of curse. “Expelled from Durmstangs for using Crucio on another student, what was his name again? Quinton Horace, just because he happened to be there when you were ticked off? Though, what can you expect, seeing as you were, descended from a family of dark wizards.” He spits, in front of Gellert. “And Ariana is too young to realize, so don’t bother using her, and Albus is too busy fucking you to even bother actually realizing what you are, though that’s typical of Albus. He’ll fuck anything that’s powerful and has a dick -“

Gellert interrupts him, his pulse raising again. The familiar ice is settling over him, the marble walls and the snow, as he says quietly, “Perhaps you’re just jealous.”

Aberforth laughs. “What is there to be jealous about?”

Gellert just shrugs. “That Albus is better then you. In so many different ways. He’s smarter then you, kinder then you, more powerful then you. You’re just jealous, that he’s fallen in love, that it’s a man that he’s fallen in love with and you have achieved nothing in your miserable life because when you die, there will be no one to even remember you existed.”

That finally snaps Aberforth’s leash and he slashes down. Gellert just laughs, stepping to the side as the curse careens into the wall beside him. “And you can’t even duel.”

Aberforth is shaking, with anger and rage and fury as he flicked his wand again. The pots and pans fly out of the cupboard, hurtling towards Gellert’s face as he lazily makes them drop the floor with a clatter. “Gosh, what do they teach you at Hogwarts, besides throwing pans at people?”

Aberforth roars now, stabbing his wand madly as jet after jet of purple light erupts from his wand. Gellert ducks, the jets ricocheting off the brick walls as Aberforth yells, part of the wall collapsing and the tables being overturned. He locks eyes with Ariana, just for a moment before she cries out and the wall beside her collapses, burying her under a cloud of white dust.

He deflects another bolt with his wand, sending another jinx back at Aberforth as he leaps towards where Ariana fell. He hears Aberforth yell, “DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!” but he ignores him, ducking another spell. He feels it carve into his cheekbone, feels the cut start to bleed, but he swallows, scans the room for Ariana because where is she?

He sees the magic explode against the wall, hears someone cry out, and he’s running towards the corner as Aberforth yells “COWARD” at his back. He doesn’t care though, as he pulls back the debris and finds Ariana, on her back as blood runs down the side of her face. She’s whimpering, one hand reaching up to touch the scratch on her temple, and Gellert feels the room begin to spin, feels the ground rise in waves beneath is feet. He tries to control it, tries to shove it down, like all those other emotions he feels, but as he sees the blood bead up on Ariana’s face, something within him breaks open.

He barely pauses to think, to breathe, as he points his wand behind him and says, “Crucio.”

He’s casted the curse before, once in his life, on that boy Quinton, back in Durmstangs. He was kissing another boy, in the corridor, and Quinton had walked in on them. He never liked Quinton, had always stayed away from him, yet Quinton always seemed to seek him out. He remembers the sneer that twisted over his face, that leering grin as Quinton had raised his wand, had said, “Always knew you were a fucking gay dickwad, Gellert.”

The next thing he knew, the boy was writhing on the ground.

Somewhere in reality, Aberforth was screaming, pain racking his body and his shrieks echoing across the room, yet all Gellert could focus on was Ariana. He touched a shaking hand to her face, brushing the blood away, and was about to heal her when he hears the door fly open.

Albus rushes in, his face white as he takes in the scene, the dust and the debris, Ariana on the ground and Aberforth writhing next to her. The groceries fall from his hands, eggs splattering on the ground, as he drew his wand and flicked it at Aberforth.

Gellert steps forwards, feeling the blood drain from his face. “No, please, Albus, I can explain - “

Albus’ voice is quiet, merciless. “You used an unforgivable curse on my brother.”

Gellert swallows, hard, his hands turned up. “No, that’s not the full story - “

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” With a scream, Aberforth stabs his wand out, a lash of fire lancing towards Gellert, burning his robes, and Albus yells out “No!” as Gellert ducks, his wand out now.

And they are all dueling, the air thick with spells, sparks richotcheting off the walls and rebounding off of curses. He can’t see anything but light, streaks of it, so terribly similar to the streaks of falling stars in the night sky. He can’t see who he’s duelling, can only fire curse after curse, and pray that he doesn’t hit Albus please don’t let me hit Albus. He feels a bolt slice open his side, the wound burning as Gellert grits his teeth and someone was screaming, a loud, high pitch noise and -

Then Aberforth drops to his knees, a scream tearing out of his throat. “No. Ariana. Ariana!!”

Horror fills Gellert’s stomach, numbing him as he stares down, at Aberforth cradling Ariana’s body and it’s all over. “No. No!”

He drops down as well, reaching out for her, and Aberforth yanks her away. “Don’t you touch her, you bitch!”

Gellert’s breath is rattling in his chest, every inhale painful as he turns up to Albus. “Al, please, please, I didn’t - “

He sees the fury in Albus’ eyes, the anger and the rage, and as Gellert looks into his eyes, he feels the bond between them begin to crack. “No. No, please, Albus, you have to listen to me - “

Albus is crying, tears welling up in his eyes as he spits out, “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“What?” Gellert whispers, his wand dangling from nerveless fingers. Albus is shaking, from rage or heartbreak he can’t tell, the bond between them cracking beyond repair. Albus’s voice is steady though, merciless as he says again, “Get the fuck out of my house. Get out of my sight. Because I swear Gel…If I see you again, I’ll kill you.”

Gellert’s heart cracks open, a bleeding, gaping wound. It throbs with every beat, pounding against his chest as he swallows, hard. “Fine.”

With shaking hands, he stands. He’s shivering, trembling, the force of what just happened hitting him like a brick. For once in his life, he doesn’t try to hide it, doesn’t try to cover anything up, lets Albus see that cracked heart and that broken soul. He exhales, a shaky breath, trying to memorize Albus because he knows it’s the last time they will ever see each other without one of them dying. “Goodbye, Albus.”

He turns, about to walk off, when he pauses. His back is still to Albus, as he fumbles in his pocket. The tears threaten to spill over, but he bites down, ignoring the blood in his mouth as he tosses something behind him.

Albus swears, as he catches that leather vial, the metal biting into his palm. Gellert turns around, just slightly, glancing at him over his shoulder. “Do you know my wish, Albus? What I wished for in that vial?” He smiles slightly, a broken, pained smirk. “It was that this would last forever.” He laughs, the sound tearing at his throat, as he sees the blood well up from Albus’ clenched fist. “I wished for us to last forever. Guess that was bullshit.”

Albus doesn’t say anything, the silence between them growing, as Gellert screams. “She was my sister too.”

But Albus still is silent, blood dripping from his closed fist, so Gellert straightens. He walks, each step taking eternity, out of that ruined house. And he knows he should, knows he should turn back, by Gellert Grindelwald doesn’t look back, as he walks out of the village, and finally, lets the tears fall.


	3. What We Are Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shakes his head, one hand rising up to brush the scar on his palm. He knew Albus would come, knew that he would try and stop him. They were too alike, him and Albus, too similar, too close. Albus would come, and they would duel and one of them would die.
> 
> It was what he would have done.
> 
> With a snarl, he flips the wand in his hand, pulling it through his knuckles and around his wrist. A small habit, left over from that sun-kissed summer, a memory on an island and a meteor shower and a kiss.
> 
> He had loved Albus, long ago. Still loved him, as much as he tried to bury it.
> 
> Gellert clenches his teeth, staring out into the stormy ocean and waves. There was a saying, that you hated no one more then one you used to love. It was ironic, terribly and bitterly ironic, that Gellert would have to kill the man he loved more then anything.

He stands there, tall and proud, feet planted on the stones beneath him. The Elder Wand dangles at his side, won through blood and pain and lives lost.

He remembers a phrase, echoing through the pillars, a whisper on an island so long ago. It’s nothing, Gellert, just a piece of blood-soaked wood.

He shakes his head, one hand rising up to brush the scar on his palm. He knew Albus would come, knew that he would try and stop him. They were too alike, him and Albus, too similar, too close. Albus would come, and they would duel and one of them would die.

It was what he would have done.

With a snarl, he flips the wand in his hand, pulling it through his knuckles and around his wrist. A small habit, left over from that sun-kissed summer, a memory on an island and a meteor shower and a kiss.

He had loved Albus, long ago. Still loved him, as much as he tried to bury it.

Gellert clenches his teeth, staring out into the stormy ocean and waves. There was a saying, that you hated no one more then one you used to love. It was ironic, terribly and bitterly ironic, that Gellert would have to kill the man he loved more then anything.

One summer. That was it, wasn’t it? One fucking summer, a lifetime, days stretching out in front of them because goddamn them, they both thought that they were infinite. They thought that they could last forever.

They thought they could change the world.

He feels it before he sees it. He’s not sure what it was, a slight change in the air. When they were younger, he used to tease Albus about his magic, for its flamboyance and its complications.

There were no flashing lights, no roar of fire, no darkness or brightness or wave of sound. There was only a small breath of wind, the space of a breath, when Albus appears.

He’s changed now, auburn hair streaked with brown, weathered skin and scars on his hands. He’s older, hardened by grief and misery and pain.

But his eyes were still the same.

They were the same eyes Gellert stares into, those summer days long ago. They were the same eyes that danced when casting spells, twinkled when sharing jokes, glowed when talking to his family, fluttered shut when they kissed. They were radiant, Gellert remembering the hours he spent lost in them, the kindness and joy that radiated from every speck of blue.

With a small smile, Gellert looks into Albus’ eyes now. Empty, hollow, hard as iron and as cold as the stars.

The silence stretches between them, both seeming unwilling to speak. With a small laugh, Gellert shatters it.

“So. Come to finish me off now?”

Albus’ face is pale, a wall pulled up between them. But Gellert can still read him, can still see his tells, the way he bit his lip and swallowed hard and let his fists clench at his side. He laughs again. “I see you’ve learned some of my techniques, Albus. The wall you’ve put up is admirable. Pity I’ve always been able to read your emotions.”

This time, Albus flinches, just the smallest bit, the cracks beginning to show through. It breaks Gellert’s heart, seeing Albus like this, thin and broken, bones melded into each other, twisted and shrunken and in pain. He remembers the boy from before, the boy who stood tall and laughed, and his heart clenches.

But it’s always been one of Gellert’s talents, the ability to laugh and smile and smirk, even when he feels like screaming. He paces, a long, lazy circle, around Albus. “But of course. You deny it, don’t you? Deny everything we did together, deny everything we were together. You hide, Albus, you hide from the past. You hide from our experiences together.”

He smiles. “You forget that our experiences make us who we are.”

Albus looks up, the wind pulling at his hair and at his robes. His voice is low, slightly hoarse, nothing but steel in his words. “And so do our mistakes. We are complex creatures, Gellert. Our experiences shape us, yes, but so do our horrible, twisted, irredeemable mistakes.”

Gellert laughs again, circling closer. “So that’s what it is? A mistake? We were only a mistake?”

“Is that pain I detect in your voice, Gellert?”

Gellert keeps his voice steady, a bitter mocking tone as he curses. “Is it? Is it, Dumbledore?” He shrugs. “You’ve always claimed that you know me well. You’ve always claimed that you are exactly like me. So you tell me, Albus. Am I in pain. Do I have a heart?”

Albus’ eyes harden. He stands up straight, an iron rod, unyielding and unbreaking, and dinly, a twinge if pride runs through Gellert. Albus was always the gentle one, the one who dealt in laughter and love, not pain and violence. Gellert was always the fighter, the harbringer of war.

But now Albus stood, proud. A warrior, the best duellist of his generation. “This is not about us, Gellert. This is about you, and your unforgivable crimes against Muggles and Wizard-kind in Europe. You have a choice to either submit peacefully or - “

Gellert shakes his head. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Albus. We know each other too well. You really think I am going to come in peacefully?” He bares his teeth. “It’s always about us. It’s always has been. You are the best duellist in Europe. Why wait for so long?”

Albus meets his eyes. “You know why.”

He can hear the wind howling between them, screaming like how he was inside. He hides it well though, letting a scornful laugh out as he draws his wand. “What. The blood oath?” He laughs as he points the tip at his palm, slashing the thick white scar in half. In front of him, Albus flinches, a cut opening on his own palm.

Through the blood, Gellert whispers. “The blood oath was meant to be taken amongst the soul-bonded. You know the rite. For the Bond is for the One of Two to once again be combined into One.” He smiles. “It only holds when the two still feel the same way as they did when the bond was made.” He locks eyes with Albus. “And we both know what we feel now.”

Albus raises his wand. “I am to give you one more warning, Gellert. Submit quietly, or we duel.” The words hold no pride, no arrogance, just a quiet sadness. “I am the best duellist of my age. I have won 49 duels and lost none. I - “

Gellert’s voice is a mere breath, almost lost in the wind. “You forget who taught you, Al.”

He watches, with some satisfaction, as Albus winces against the use of the nickname. He realizes how frail Albus seems, the agony pouring from him. A small smile graces Albus’ face, the mere ghost of what it once was, as Albus says, “I never forgot. It’s why I’m now so successful.”

Gellert tilts his head. “Just dodge the bloody fireball.”

He thinks there are tears in Albus’ eyes, unshed tears, a thousand drops for that relinquished life they could have had. Gellert closes his eyes, feeling his chest crack apart, his soul bared to the stinging air and biting wind and the piercing gaze of Albus’ blue eyes. The anger starts to wells up, anger at Albus and Aberforth and himself, rage pouring like lava into that gaping cavity in his chest. He spits out the words now, barely controlled. “It’s all your fault, anyways. You never listened. You never let me speak.”

Albus bites his lip, blood welling where his teeth pierced the skin. “I was blinded by grief and by misery - “

“Bullshit. You wanted to blame someone.” Gellert stares at him. “You wanted to blame someone, anyone, because you couldn’t live with the possibility that you could have killed her. I loved her, Albus. I loved her like she was my own sister. And you were such a coward, you blamed it on your fucking boyfriend when it may not have been me.”

Albus closes his eyes, against the rage and fury and desperation. “I have paid, Gellert. I have paid so many times, but the highest price was leaving you.”

Gellert just laughs again, laughs and laughs, through the pain in his heart and the blood in his mouth. “Oh, for god’s sake. Get this over with.”

He raises his wand, flicking it, a line of flames drawn between them. It’s high, up to his shoulders, blue and red and orange and white, changing colors like that meteor shower so long ago. It divides them, a wall of fire, casting shadows in both of them as they stand. The wind howls, cinders flying against Gellert’s skin, but he can’t feel it, not when Albus is so close. “You’ve chosen your side, Albus. Against me. Against what we were before. You abandoned me, and you dare to say that the ‘greatest price was leaving me?’” Gellert laughs. “You only ever served yourself, Albus. Now rot and leave me be. You know these flames, don’t you?”

He searches Albus’ eyes, and Gellert smiles at the agony in them. He remembers the spells, the potions, the hours spent perfecting the magical flames. They were enchanted, supposed to only be breached by those who loved him, intended for only Albus to pass.

But no one loved Gellert anymore, and the flames stood high.

Tears are running down Albus’ face now, reflecting the light, as he shakes his head. “Please. Don’t make me do this, Gel. Don’t.”

Gellert’s heart cracks open, but he sneers at Albus. “Make you do what? You don’t love me, anyways. I doubt you ever did. We were nothing, I was nothing, just a stain on the great life of Albus Fucking Dumbledore.”

Albus’ voice is quiet. “You aren’t a stain, Gellert. You’re the entire fucking book.”

And Gellert’s heart leaps into his throat, as Albus smiles, the ghost of the boys they once were. He wants to scream, to cry, to do something, as Albus takes a step forwards.

And passes through the flames.

He winces as he does, small burns on his hands, but all Gellert can do is breathe, breathe as he sees Albus emerge. He’s bitten through his cheek, the shredded flesh stinging, as Gellert whispers, “How?”

Albus smiles, and in that smile, Gellert sees them. Every laugh, every joke, every kiss and touch and whisper, all contained in Albus’ eyes. Every word exchanged, every spell cast, every drop of blood and tear shed, the memories of two boys, what they were before and what they could have been, tangled up in that complex tapestry that was them. “You think I ever stopped loving you?”

Gellert can’t breathe, can do nothing but stare, as he feels Albus’ lips brush over his, and for one glorious moments, they are 17 again, the world still golden, and they were together.

With tears in his eyes, Gellert steps back, his heart pounding as he stares into the eye of the man he loved, raising his wand, and prepares to duel.

~

The memories fade, the bottle dripping down onto the stone floor, as Grindelwald stares at the stone wall in front of him and breathes. That’s all he can do, that one final gift that Albus granted him, the memories of them, together. He’s too numb to cry, to numb to do anything but stare at the wall and breathe, in and out, as the sun set below the hills.

When the moonlight illuminates his cell, Gellert finally stands, unrolling the slip of paper underneath the cap, to reveal a few words in a slanting script:

What We Could Have Been

Gellert clutches it, hard, the cap of the bottle slicing into his palm, as finally the tears begin to spill down. Behind him, he can hear footsteps, chains rattling, the light sound of breath, a key in the lock. He’s old now, past the point of caring, past the point of pain, and the figure that was Gellert Grindelwald hardly turns around as the figure steps into the cell.

He already knows what to do, is already prepared, as he presses the note into his hand, the vial at his side, and whispers, “Hello, Tom Riddle.”


End file.
